Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“It’s huge.”
“Mateo will hopefully come work for us on the next flip if Lillian’s sells for what we’re hoping. Tore will stay on at his job for a little longer to ensure there’s definitely still cash coming in. But otherwise we’re all set. This is what we’ve been planning and saving toward all these years.”
“I’m so happy for you. You’re going to do great.”
“That damn car could have killed me last week.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “I can see why that would push you to put the plan into motion sooner rather than later.”
He nodded. “There’s a hell of a lot I still want to do in life. Things I want to achieve.”
“Yeah.”
Then he raised a finger to boop my nose, making me giggle. Either he was a comedy god, or I was drunk off my ass. It honestly could have been either.
“Any luck talking to ghosts?” he asked.
“No. Nothing.”
“And you actually sound surprised by that.”
“Hope springs eternal.” I smiled. “Wonder if you’ll find anything in the walls of Miss Lillian’s house.”
“I fucking hope not. Things are complicated enough.” He turned away. “I’m going to head back over to the condo tomorrow. Pack everything up.”
My face fell. “Oh.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “What does that look mean, Susie?”
“Nothing.”
“You sure about that?”
“Well, I mean, are you going to do that and then come back for the next week?” I asked. “Or are you like leaving now on a more permanent basis?”
“I’m getting out of your hair for the time being,” he clarified. “But I’ll be around.”
“Right. That’s...that’s good.”
“That’s good?” His gaze roamed over my face. As if I were in any condition to be examined. It was past time for me to get my ass into bed. He took a step back and leaned against the wall. Was it just my imagination or was he putting distance between us?
“Yes.” I frowned. But that wasn’t the right face. So I smiled instead. “Everything is working out so well for you, Lars. Your whole life plan is coming together.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,” I repeated softly. “I, um... Can we maybe talk some more about this in the morning?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
* * *
The best cure for a hangover has long been debated. Some swear by hair of the dog. While others are big on electrolytes. One college friend of mine simply refused to rise until any and all symptoms had passed. Which might have been why she had a tendency to fail any subjects scheduled for Monday morning. My own personal cure-all involved caffeine, grease, and painkillers. Since it was summer, I went with an ice-cold can of Coke. This was served with eggs, bacon, and toast, with two Tylenol on the side. A combination that soon worked wonders on my headache and queasy stomach.
Not waking until after ten meant Lars was long gone. But he’d left me a note. He’d be back tonight for our talk. What the hell was I going to say to the man? That was the question. Feelings frightened me. The house was strangely quiet without him. For someone who’d loved having a place to herself just a few short months ago, this was a not-so-welcome reaction to his absence. Was I willing to sacrifice some of my independence for his companionship? He might not even want to take this thing between us further. Or at least, not so fast. His reactions last night had been confusing. Though that might have been the booze.
With no immediate answer to these questions, I buried myself in work, liaising with influencers regarding the recent launch of the period panties. Their online presence on a Sunday was normal. Social media could be a 24-7 thing. Although I tried to find a life/work balance, it didn’t always happen. Though being my own boss more than made up for it on most occasions. That I’d been forced to don a pair of the panties that morning made the work even more relevant. Little wonder I was in a weird emotional state with my hormones raging and blood flowing. Having your period was so bleh.
Then I switched my phone to silent for a couple of hours and took flowers to Aunt Susan’s grave. It gave me a chance to fill her in on everything that had been happening. Whether she was any more present at the cemetery than she had been in the house, I had no idea. But it made me feel better just the same. The cemetery was peaceful and green and reasonably close to home. I think it’s what Aunt Susan would have chosen. And the bouquet of wildflowers I bought would have delighted her. She loved bright colorful things.
Life had changed a lot since the day I helped carry her coffin out to the hearse. It had been raining, the sky a dark, sea gray. While I’d given up on having a relationship with my father years before, I’d held out hope for some sort of friendship with my brother. But he’d put that dream to rest at the funeral. Aunt Susan raised me to be resilient. Self-reliant. Somewhere along the line, I’d set those lessons aside and started chasing crappy relationships with men who reminded me of my father. Of all the obvious damn mistakes to make. Lars at least was nothing like him. Not even a little.